


The Mystery Baker

by Silent_So_Long



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Baking, Christmas, Community: space_wrapped, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-07
Updated: 2011-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-27 00:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim gets more than he bargained for when he tries to discover the identity of the mystery baker aboard the Enterprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mystery Baker

**Author's Note:**

> written for the 2011 space_wrapped Kirk/McCoy advent challenge. Prompt chosen is at the end of the work, to avoid spoiling the identity of the mystery baker.

“Bones, are you humming?” Jim asked, a few seconds after he entered the Sickbay.

Leonard looked up sharply from the patient he was treating, a frown creasing the skin between his brows as he did so. His intense hazel gaze bored into Jim’s blue-eyed one, yet the captain didn’t quail beneath the ferocity of that one glare. Unlike many others, he knew that Leonard’s bark was so often worse than his bite and that the doctor had the warmest, bravest heart in the entire universe. Not that Jim was in any way biased, oh no.

“Dammit, Jim, I’m a doctor, not a choir-boy,” Leonard growled, before returning his attentions back to his patient. “I do not hum.”

He leant down, raising one of the patient’s eyelids and peered deep into the man’s eye. Leonard harrumphed, trying to take no notice of the fact that Jim was still there, loitering nearby and watching him.

“You weren’t doing too badly, there, Bones. Sounds like you could carry a tune,” Jim remarked, amusement warming his gaze as he tried to smile innocently at the doctor glaring literal scalpels at him.

Jim had noticed that about Leonard. While other people glared daggers, Leonard had the ability to promise arcane sharp and pointy medical equipment digging into soft fleshy parts of the human anatomy with just one look. That glare only made Jim grin. He’d lived through the worst of Leonard’s so-called help in getting him aboard the Enterprise soon after they’d first met, resulting in Jim’s hands swelling up to three times their size, blurred vision, and the inherent inability to actually talk, given the fact that he was suffering from numb-tongue at the time. Even Uhura, the mistress of all linguists, had not been able to understand him and she could understand pretty much anything. Besides that unfortunate mishap, Jim had to remind himself again that Leonard was a big softy, really. He’d certainly helped Jim out a lot in the name of friendship over the past few months alone.

As expected, Leonard didn’t respond to Jim’s earlier statement about him being able to carry a tune; instead, the doctor continued working, examining his patient’s other eye and staring deep into his mouth, brows furrowed in deep concentration.

“Is there a reason behind you cluttering up my sickbay, Jim?” Leonard finally asked, when the silence dragged on for too long without either of them speaking.

Jim smirked when Leonard's hazel eyes rose to meet his own, puzzlement clear in Leonard’s gaze.

“Just wanted to know what your plans are for Christmas, is all,” the captain replied, with an effortless shrug, slim shoulders moving beneath the confines of his captain’s tunic.

“Same as I do any other day; spend it in here,” Leonard growled. “My patients don’t stop just because of a holiday, you know.”

Jim’s face was a picture of extreme puppy-dog disapproval at that, and he saw a flicker of a smile cross Leonard’s face when the doctor glanced up at him and caught the expression.

“You can’t even take some time off? Not even for Christmas?“ Jim asked, aiming for pathetic, yet not quite reaching it.

His face was too friendly, too cheerful to attain the levels of pathetic puppy-dog doom in quite the same way that Leonard, himself, could. Now, Jim had seen Leonard perpetrate the best puppy-eyed expressions imaginable, usually directed towards Jim himself when Leonard thought that no one, not even Jim, was looking. Leonard’s hazel eyes were particularly expressive, Jim had found.

“I don’t know. Depends on who’s doing the ordering,” Leonard mumbled, as he finally stepped away from his patient, checking the bio-screens through long years of practice.

All levels remained steady and unrelenting, proving that the Skrillexian virus currently sweating through his patient’s veins was starting to run its course. Given a few more days of silent recovery and that engineer would be back on his feet and fiddling with warp drives and anti-matter in no time, Leonard knew.

“Your captain’s ordering you to take some time off,” Jim said, decisively, staring at Leonard in a forthright manner. “It’s Christmas, man. You should get some jollies into you. And I won’t take no for an answer.”

Leonard merely harrumphed and bustled around the Sickbay, with Jim watching every movement. Eventually, Jim grew bored and wandered away, with a called reminder for Leonard to start enjoying the Christmas period more over his shoulder. Leonard didn’t reply that time; not even to harrumph. Jim, however, didn’t seem to mind, slender frame soon stopped by a worried looking Scotty in the corridor outside. Leonard watched them leave, a slight smile warming his face and his eyes, before he returned to what he was doing, humming Christmas carols beneath his breath fastidiously.

Scotty soon took Jim’s mind from thoughts of Christmas and a potentially singing Bones McCoy, by informing him of the fact that they really needed dilithium crystals, in order to keep the engines working. According to the kind-eyed engineer, several of the Enterprise’s existing crystals had burnt away, leaving useless dead blackened lumps behind. Jim sighed, nodded, and strode to the bridge, where he asked Sulu to plot a course to the nearest planet containing the much needed crystals.

Sulu had nodded, before doing as Kirk had asked, aiming the Enterprise towards the environs of Epsilai, the nearest dilithium rich planet in their sector of space. As soon as they attained orbit around the planet Epsilai, Jim strode to the transporter room, Scotty with a team of engineers accompanying him. Although it was a fairly routine excursion, Jim still wanted to be there in attendance to oversee it, ever needful to oversee every aspect of his ship’s upkeep.

The mining itself didn’t take long and the small contingent of captain and engineers soon returned to the Enterprise, unharmed and ready to fix the ship’s engines.

~*~*~*~

The Enterprise was silent, corridors dimmed by night-time lighting, only a skeleton crew ghosting around the ship. A tall figure wended its was through the silent corridors, ducking out of the way of passing Ensigns going about the ramifications of their night time shifts. No one seemed to notice the fleeting figure, although most detected the smell of food wafting through the corridors of the Enterprise, shifted on the breezes of crew’s passage across the decks.

~*~*~*~

Scotty was one of the first to discover the meaning of the smell, for, when he stumbled out of his quarters, yawning and pawing one weary hand in his eyes to wake himself up, he almost stepped into a plate of banana cream pie. Stopping just short of doing so, he stared down at the gift, before he shrugged, bent down and picked the plate up. He was gratified to note that whoever had left the tasty treat had also had the foresight to leave a fork with the pie and as he strolled to the engineering bay, he tucked in. By the time he reached his position at the consoles in the transporter room, the pie had all but gone, leaving a very mournful and still hungry Scotsman in its wake.

Across the ship, Chekov had a plate filled with sweet raisin pierogis, which greatly pleased the proud Russian, digging in with alacrity. They were consumed by the time he’d gone halfway to the bridge. Uhura was awarded with the sight of a large crusty cinnamon croissant, while Sulu devoured a plate of sweet pancakes doused in syrup. Spock was picking slowly at a slice of coconut sponge, although it was hard to tell whether the Vulcan was enjoying himself. It seemed as though everyone had a little sweet something to nibble upon, yet no one knew where the desserts had come from.

Much to everyone’s surprise, and jealousy from some, Jim arrived on the bridge, groaning under the weight of a plateful of hefty sweet potato pies, filled to the brim with sugary, creamy potato goodness. By the looks of the state of Jim’s face, he’d already consumed a couple of them, great smears of sticky orange filling smeared around his mouth.

“Holy crap, but these are good,” he groaned as he flopped into the captain’s seat and proceeded to cram another of the pies into his mouth.

“I am glad to note that at least someone appears to be quite enjoying themselves this morning,” Spock said, as he placed his coconut sponge to one side.

Jim merely smiled from around his mouthful of sweet potato and pastry, eyeing the Vulcan’s small portion with growing confusion. He turned and looked around at the rest of the crew, frown growing deeper when he realized that he had the biggest portion out of all of them. Although no one directly addressed that issue, he still could feel envious, curious eyes resting upon him, even as he took pity on the less fortunate and divided up the pies with them. He couldn’t understand where the pies had come from, or even why he’d received the lion's share of the treats. He finally decided that it was because he was the captain, and so, had received due reparations. That, at least, had made him smile and made the potato pies all the sweeter.

~*~*~*~

“You’re not supposed to have food in the Sickbay unless you’re a patient,” Leonard said, as soon as he saw Nurse Chapel nibbling daintily at a lavishly frosted pink cupcake.

Christine looked up, wide eyes wider still in surprise.

“I’m sorry, but this was left outside my door, this morning,” she said, a trifle guilty. “Someone obviously intended for me to have this so I brought it with me. I didn’t have the time to eat it, before.”

Leonard raised one eyebrow at Christine, that one arch gesture saying all he needed to say without the need for actual words. Christine blushed and looked away, before she filled the awkward silence.

“No, I don’t know who left it outside. I checked it for poisons, though, just in case,” she assured the now glowering Leonard.

“You checked it for poisons,” he said, in disbelief, before cutting off his own words sharply.

“Sure. I mean, you can’t be too careful, can you? It’s not every day a girl finds a stray cupcake outside her quarters, Doctor,” she opined in surprise.

“No, that’s ... surprisingly true, actually,” Leonard replied thoughtfully. “Although, I couldn’t imagine you going short of people wanting to give you cupcakes, darlin’.”

He turned away and so missed Christine’s resultant blush that deepened and spread across her cheeks. She busied herself with finishing off her cupcake before returning to her duties. Leonard smiled but busied himself with his own duties.

~*~*~*~

After a particularly hard day negotiating with Romulans and trying to talk them out of not trying to infiltrate, and annihilate a whole colony of lesser beings upon the planet Sekwano, Jim staggered wearily into his quarters. He collapsed face first into his bed, groaning loudly which turned into words vaguely resembling - just kill me now. Much as he loved being a captain, sometimes the job was too much, too taxing and the cons outweighed the pros.

He sat up suddenly at the smell of sweet peaches nearby and his hungry eye fell upon the sight of a whole peach cobbler sitting demurely nearby. There was even a jug of sweetened whipped cream sitting beside it and a spoon thoughtfully placed beside both, just tempting Jim to dip its silvered surface into the fruity dessert. Without thinking about what he was doing, the captain did so, liberally applying the cream to the surface of the cobbler and tucking in with alacrity. It was only then that Jim realised he hadn’t even eaten all day, and that was all due to the war-like Romulans.

Before he knew it, the whole cobbler was gone, leaving Jim to stare mournfully at the empty bowl, wishing there was more of it. Whoever had thoughtfully made and left the treat certainly knew how to cook, he thought.

In the morning, Jim discovered with careful prodding that no one else had received any cakes the previous night, yet Jim had. It left Jim wondering why he had been singled out to receive a cake of his own, why he was receiving special treatment, seemingly. He began to doubt whether it had anything to do with him being captain, after all. He’d received a cake when he’d most needed something, as though someone, somewhere, was trying to look after him.

~*~*~*~

Cakes and pastries started appearing all over the ship after that, sometimes in strategic places upon the Bridge, in Engineering, even in each crew member’s quarters over the following weeks. Every cake was different, every cake highly decorated and lovingly prepared, yet no one knew who was making them. Jim made it his prerogative to find the mystery baker.

His first port of call was Scotty, who was busying himself with the latest engineering manuals while on his break. In front of the engineer was a veritable stack of sugary cinnamon cookies, all carefully decorated with various Christmas characters. The engineer was absent-mindedly nibbling the head from a snowman’s plump marshmallow-and-cinnamon-cookie body when the captain entered.

“Hey, Scotty,” Jim said, as he slumped into the seat opposite Scotty.

“Mornin’ Cap’n,” Scotty replied, lifting dark eyes filled with engineering based concentration upon Jim. “How are ye, today?”

“Fine. I take it you’re well, yourself. Those cookies smell nice,” Jim said, by way of conversation, knowing that Scotty, when armed with food and his engineering manuals, could weather any storm and not notice anything that was happening outside his immediate sphere of concentration.

“Aye. They taste better than they smell, Jim,” Scotty said, as he pushed the plate willingly towards the captain.

Jim thought that that was perhaps an understatement on the engineer’s part, for the cookies smelt heavenly, indeed. Jim’s slender hand snaked out and he plucked one of the cookies from the plate, choosing a well decorated reindeer. The reindeer’s iced face grinned maniacally up at Jim, while little raisins dotted the ground at the deer’s rear end. That at least made Jim chuckle to himself; whoever the mystery baker was certainly had a macabre sense of humour. He bit into the reindeer’s face, deciding to leave the raisins until the last possible moment.

“Say, Scotty, d’you know who’s making these things?” Jim asked, spraying crumbs as he waved the cookie into the engineer’s face.

“Wha’s that? Nae, Cap’n, I dinnae ken who baked the cookies, I’m afraid. They just keep turning up, alongside other things,” Scotty replied, kind eyes frowning at Jim. “Why? Is there a problem with them?”

“No, no; no problem. I was just curious as to who it was,” Jim replied, with a shrug. “Unless it’s you.”

“Me? Nae, sir. I dinnae have the knack for the cooking, Jim. I only wish I did have. My best bet is that it’s Uhura. I bet she can cook like the very divvil,” Scotty said, with a smile.

“Don’t let her hear you calling her a devil,” Jim laughed, as he finished the raisin end of the reindeer and helped himself to a brightly decorated pine tree cookie. “Perhaps I should ask her.”

“Maybe,” Scotty replied, without looking up from his PADD.

There was a silence between them then, only broken by intermittent crunching and sucking of fingers from the pair of them. Finally, Jim stood and left, heading for the bridge and Uhura. Uhura was busy with incoming messages for all and sundry when Jim reached the bridge, relaying Christmas messages to various members of the crew. Sulu was getting a lot of them, judging by the amount of times Uhura’s voice rang out over the bridge, leading Jim to assume that the helmsman must have a lot of family.

He noticed the majority of the crew had plates of pastries and cookies balanced near them; even Spock was sampling some kind of fruit filled pastry at the scanners. It was hard to tell from the ever impassive Vulcan’s face whether he was actually enjoying the cake or not, yet the mere fact that Spock kept eating was the only indication that he actually liked it.

Without looking, Jim hovered near the captain’s seat, preparing to slump down into its comfortable confines. He was alerted into springing up again before butt met seat, at Chekov’s sudden war-cry.

“What is it, Chekov?” Jim asked, bolting to his feet.

“Do not sit there, keptin,” Chekov demanded, imperiously. “You will skvish your cake, othervise.”

“Skvish?” Jim asked, as he squinted at Chekov in confusion.

“I believe Chekov means squish, sir,” Spock supplied, dryly. “Or flatten, in proper English.”

“I see,” Jim replied, unconvinced, even as he turned around to see what the fuss was about.

As Chekov had intimated, there was, indeed, a cake sitting upon the Captain’s chair. It was bigger than Jim’s rear, dwarfing the cushion upon which Jim was about to sit. It was decorated with a highly realised version of the Enterprise in lovingly applied icing, zooming through candy-ball stars. Jim stared in disbelief at the cake. He lifted it, sniffed it and found the smell quite fruity with hints of honey underlying it.

“This smells gorgeous,” Jim said, as McCoy meandered in, mouth buried into a cinnamon and sugar coated sweet roll.

When the roll fell away to dangle between long fingers, the doctor’s mouth was smeared with sugar and cinnamon. That sight wasn’t enough to distract Jim from asking the obvious.

“So our mysterious baker has been giving you gifts, too, huh, Bones?” he asked, as he watched Leonard bite another hunk of sweet roll from his hand.

Leonard grunted the affirmative through his mouthful, tongue lapping out to remove the sticky residue from around his mouth. He leant beside Jim, and arched one eyebrow at the cake that still perched in between Jim’s grasping hands.

“You gonna eat that, kid, or are you gonna clasp it all day long?” he asked, mouth curling into a small smile at that. “Be close to blasphemy to let that thing go to waste, ya know.”

“What? Sure, I’m gonna eat it. Say, you don’t know who this mystery baker is, do you?” Jim asked, with a hopeful smile up at the doctor leaning over him.

“I think that’s part of the allure, to keep it a mystery, don’t you think, Jim?” Leonard replied, as he bit into his cinnamon roll once more.

“Right, I see, so you’re gonna be just as mysterious as everyone else then,” Jim said. “It’s Christmas Day, tomorrow. I’ll get to the bottom of this even if it kills me.”

“It won’t kill ya, Jim,” Leonard replied, with a heavy sigh. “I will, if you don’t eat that cake, however.”

“Doctor’s orders?” Jim asked, with a smirk.

“Doctor’s orders,” Leonard confirmed, before strolling lazily away.

Jim exchanged a smirk with Uhura, before asking her the next question.

“Say, Scotty seems to think it was you who’s been leaving the cakes everywhere, Uhura,” Jim called over to her.

Uhura shot him a disbelieving glare, eyebrows raised high above unimpressed dark eyes.

“No, sir, it wasn’t me. The time you catch me in the kitchen will be after I die. I have more skills with my tongue than my hands,” she stated, sounding affronted.

“I wouldn’t know,” Jim shot back. “That's a good point, actually. I will give whoever’s been baking all these goods a kiss for Christmas, once I find out who it is.”

Sulu and Chekov laughed at their consoles, causing Jim to throw them an affronted look.

“What? I have it on good authority, that I’m a good kisser,” he said.

“And that’s just from Doctor McCoy,” Sulu chuckled.

“Don’t drag me into this, Sulu,” barked Leonard from across the bridge. “I’m a doctor, not some cheap whore you can buy with kisses.”

“Why, who’s tried?” Jim laughed.

“Never you mind,” Leonard replied, and didn’t say any more on the subject.

“Would it not seem logical to assume that it’s the doctor who’s been leaving all the cakes aboard?” Spock observed, calmly, dark brown eyes watching the proceedings with something that could be called interest in a human, and what was scientific scrutiny in the Vulcan.

Jim raised his eyebrows at Spock, before he asked - “What makes you say that? He already said it wasn’t him.”

“I was merely making my observation on the fact that Dr McCoy is very good with his hands upon the surgeon’s table. It is the most logical leap from there to assuming he could make food-based delicacies with the same hands,” Spock said.

“Well, I couldn’t very well use someone else’s hands, could I? Assuming it was me. I‘m not saying either way,” Leonard snorted. “Pointy eared bastard, anyway. You keep all your sense in your ears.”

“Quite. As do you, given the nature of your last statement,” Spock replied, raising one eyebrow at Leonard artfully.

“Children, play nicely,” Jim chipped in.

“I have to go back to Sickbay anyway,” Leonard said, abruptly. “I know I won’t get insulted by goblins there. Enjoy your cake, Jim.”

“I will. I’ll even save you a slice,” Jim called after the retreating figure of Leonard McCoy.

All he got in response was one waving hand and Jim couldn’t help but stare at them. In a way, Spock was right. Leonard really did have surgeon’s hands; long pianist’s fingers that would do just as well concocting all manner of sweet treats as operating on any numbers of bio-beds. He’d seen those fingers at work, had felt them splayed on his own body while giving him the once-over.

It was only when Uhura spoke loudly into his ear that Jim startled, unaware that he’d been staring at the empty space where Leonard had been for a while now, long enough for the doctor to have long since left.

“Would you mind repeating that, Uhura?” Jim asked, officiously straightening his tunic as though he’d merely been caught off guard instead of openly day-dreaming.

“You’ve got a communications from Starfleet. Seems like a Commodore Cassidy wants to board, have a look round? He’s very interested in the Constellation class of ships,” Uhura said, kind brown eyes staring deep into Jim’s blue ones.

“I’m fine. And sure, give the commodore permission to come aboard. I’ll meet him in the transporter room,” Jim said, absently swiping one hand over his weary eyes.

He stood, as Uhura followed his instructions to the letter, performing her duties with her usual efficiency. Spock arched one eyebrow at Jim, as the captain stared at his cake longingly.

“I suggest you take a piece with you if you desire it so keenly, sir,” the Vulcan said, quietly. “It is up to you whether you offer the Commodore a slice.”

“He’s not getting any of this cake,” Jim said, defensively. “I’ll have eaten my slice before I even get to the transporter room.”

Spock raised his eyebrow again, before he said - “Indeed? The human’s propensity for gluttony is quite, quite fascinating.”

“I’m not greedy, Spock, just very appreciative of fine food,” Jim said, defensively.

“You’re lucky your figure’s so trim, Jim,” Uhura added, sassily. “Not an ounce of fat on you for all you eat.”

“Good genes, Lieutenant,” Jim replied, with a wink at the sassy communications officer.

“You keep your jeans to yourself,” Uhura replied, pushing him away when he came too close to her, laughing as she did so.

Jim ducked away from Spock before the Vulcan could deliver a Vulcan nerve-pinch for daring to mess with his girlfriend, backing away with laughter in his eyes.

“Live long and do whatever it is you Vulcans do,” Jim said.

“Prosper. The term is prosper, Jim. Live Long and Prosper,” Spock said, with a frown.

“Yeah, same to you, cupcake,” Jim said, before borrowing Chekov’s phaser to carve himself a slice of cake.

He had no knife on his person and didn’t want to mess up his own phaser, so used Chekov’s instead. The teenaged helmsman didn’t seem to mind, considering it an honour to his Russian heritage to aid his captain any way that he could.

Jim was right when he’d claimed he would have eaten the cake before ever reaching the transporter bay. All that remained of his slice was a few tell tale crumbs on his captain’s tunic, easily brushed away before joining Scotty.

The Commodore, when he arrived, was a pleasant man, genuinely interested in the ship and listening to Jim’s ecstatic soliloquy regarding all the nuances of the ship that Jim loved. If the commodore noticed the proliferation of cakes and pastries aboard the ship then he didn’t comment. Jim passed observation himself, a little embarrassed when the Commodore almost placed his hand in the middle of a custard tart while in the Sickbay. Leonard had almost thrown them bodily out of the room for almost smearing thick yellow custard all over his bio-displays, much to Jim’s great amusement and the Commodore’s chagrin.

It was then that Jim explained that the cakes kept appearing, no doubt in time for the Christmas festivities upcoming. The commodore had nodded faintly, before retreating from the Sickbay before Leonard could follow up with his threats of throwing them out, coupled with the doctor’s pointed glares.

It took another hour for Jim to escort the Commodore around, before personally escorting him to the transporter room. He stayed long enough to witness the other man beamed away, before heading back to his own room. Although he smiled and greeted everyone on his way past, inside, he was a seething maelstrom of questions needing answers. He was determined to find out the identity of the mystery baker, now more than ever before.

 

~*~*~*~

Jim followed the tantalizing scents of baking through the mostly empty corridors of the Enterprise, dim lighting denoting the fact the ship was on night-time mode. He followed the scents, mouth watering from the delicious aromas that surrounded him, growing stronger as Jim went further into the ship.

He reached the kitchens, mostly empty bar a few skeleton crew catering for the night shift. A tall form stood by the ovens, long fingers carefully kneading a sizable ball of dough into submission, familiar Georgia tones cursing at the dough when it refused to knead the way he wanted it to. Jim watched Leonard for a while, amusement flooding through him at the sight of the ship’s chief medical officer doing something as domestic as baking. It further proved the captain’s hypothesis that Leonard was as warm-hearted beneath his grumpy exterior as Jim had always known him to be.

He walked up behind Leonard when the doctor didn’t notice him, laying one hand upon the doctor’s back gently. He ducked out of the way when Leonard grabbed the nearest thing to hand, almost clobbering the captain with a hefty swipe of his rolling pin. The rolling pin dropped away when Leonard realized who it was, much to Jim’s inherent relief.

“Jim, it’s you. I nearly hit ya, ya damn fool,” Leonard said, frowning at the captain. “What are ya doing, creeping around here at night?”

“I could ask you the same question, Bones,” Jim said, in amusement. “It certainly wasn’t my intention to get clobbered by a rolling pin. Why are you baking?”

“It’s not of import,” Leonard mumbled, turning back to his dough, cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment.

Jim grabbed Leonard’s shoulder and turned the doctor back to facing him again. The look upon Jim’s face then demanded answers, to which Leonard met that expression with a glare in his hazel eyes. His mouth pinched into a tight line, before he sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“You’re not gonna let me leave here, until I tell ya, are ya?” he asked, in defeat.

“That would be a no, Bones,” Jim said, with a definite nod.

“Fine. I love Christmas, okay? I love cooking and baking nice things for people. I thought, well, I’m on the Enterprise. What better way to have a focus for my baking than to give people treats?” he said, hazel eyes directed to the floor now. “I just didn’t want people thinking I was soft or anything, though, if I admitted to what I was doing.”

“I don’t think people would think that,” Jim told him in surprise. “Quite the opposite, in fact. D’you know how happy you’ve made people the past few days?”

Leonard shrugged, still refusing to meet Jim’s gaze head-on.

“You’ve made a hell of a lot of people very happy,” Jim confirmed. “You know how boring it can be on here. It gave people purpose in a way, trying to find out who the mystery baker is, and what they’ll get next.”

“I’m a doctor,” Leonard said, dolefully, as though by repeating that epithet, he could convince people who weren’t there of what he really was.

“You can be other things too,” Jim told him, with a snort of laughter. “Turns out you’re a master baker too.”

“None of that, now, Jim,” Leonard said, sharply. “No need to be personal.”

Jim laughed, and despite the frown that creased the skin between the other man’s brows, Leonard’s eyes were warm with laughter of his own.

“Tell me something, Bones,” Jim said, changing the subject slightly.

He paused, and Leonard prompted him by saying - “Yeah?”

“Why do I keep getting the best cakes?” Jim asked, curiosity burning in his eyes.

Leonard’s jaw clenched and he looked away, feet shuffling against the floor of the kitchen. He didn’t answer.

“Bones,” Jim said, forcefully.

Leonard kept his silence.

“Leonard McCoy, if you don’t answer me, mister, I will throw you in the brig, Now why do I keep getting the best stuff?” Jim asked.

“You wouldn’t do that?” Leonard asked, finally meeting Jim’s gaze head-on. “I’m your friend. Aren’t I?”

“Course you are. Which makes answering me easier,” Jim said. “Is it embarrassing? Rude? Does it involve tentacles?”

“Tentacles? What the hell is wrong with you, boy?” Leonard asked, in surprised disgust.

Jim grinned smugly, but otherwise didn’t reply, Instead, he waited, prompting Leonard into speaking by an arch lift his eyebrows, in an - I’m waiting - gesture.

“Why d’you think people give each other grand gifts, Jim?” Leonard asked. “It sure ain’t because I think of you as a friend.”

Jim’s eyes widened, considerably, and his eyebrows arched almost to his hairline.

“What do you think of me as than? I thought you said we were friends, just now?” Jim asked, eyes narrowed now.

“We are,” Leonard said, before stopping short and tightening his jaw again.

“You’re confusing me, Bones,” Jim said, blowing breath out of his nose.

“Think about it, Jim. You’ll get it,” Leonard replied, as he turned away forcefully, breaking Jim’s hold on him.

Jim watched him as Leonard pummelled the dough before him, knuckles digging into pale dough forcefully. He remained silent, waiting for Leonard to speak again.

“Well? Ain’t you got something to say, Jim? Gonna throw me in the brig? Throw me off the ship?” Leonard eventually growled.

“What for? Giving your captain the baked equivalent of a love letter?” Jim asked, with a diffident shrug.

“See, you do understand,” Leonard said, with a theatrical sigh and a roll of his eyes. “What the hell did you think all this was about?”

“I didn’t know, Bones,” Jim said, quietly. “You should have said something. I had no idea until tonight that you were the Mystery Baker.”

“I have been telling ya. Why do ya think I’ve been hanging round ya more? It ain’t for the scenery, kid,” Leonard snorted, as he finally started ripping great hunks of the dough away and forming rough balls between his hands.

Jim’s hand snaked out and stopped him, fingers laying on top of Leonard's. The doctor stopped his motions, but neither looked at Jim nor pulled away.

“I didn’t know,” Jim repeated softly. “I wouldn’t, not unless you told me, damn you.”

“What good would it have done?” Leonard asked. “You don’t want me.”

“Under whose rules? Not mine,” Jim said.

“Dammit, Jim,” Leonard said. “You’re just telling me what I want to hear, humouring the old country doctor. I’m a doctor, Jim, not stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid. You‘re not,” Jim said, frustration tightening his voice. “All I’m saying is, you should have told me. I would have known and then I would have done this.”

He whirled the doctor around and pressed his mouth against Leonard’s, trying to push everything he felt for the doctor into that one small piece of contact. For Jim, it was like a dam breaking, feelings he knew he’d had but didn’t acknowledge, not even to himself, flooding forward and he was gratified when Leonard started reciprocating. Then the doctor pulled away, breathing harsh, eyes blown wide and he shook his head.

“Don’t do this, Jim,” he said. “Not unless you mean it.”

“I don’t know what to do, Leonard. You’ve gotta let me in,” Jim said, helplessly. “I can’t tell you what I feel if you don’t let me.”

Leonard stared at him, a sudden gnawing pain in Jim’s eyes, pain that he’d just made him feel. He turned away sharply, thinking that he was there was hope for him yet if he only let Jim in.

“I’m a fool,” Leonard muttered. “Wanting things I can’t have.”

“But you can have me,” Jim said. “You always did.”

“Shut up,” Leonard growled.

“What do I have to do, Bones?” Jim asked, laying one hand on his shoulder again. “This isn’t a joke, no more than your feelings are. Just because I haven’t said anything means I thought I couldn’t. Why do you think I only stay with one person for only a night? It’s because I’m not happy.”

“And I would be different?” Leonard pointed out.

“Shit, Bones, you’re my friend. You’re my only friend, the only true one, anyway,,” Jim said. “I know I have the rest of the crew, but they’re not you. They’re associates. We were close right from the first day, and you threatened to throw up on me. No one’s ever done that before.”

Leonard at least laughed at that, in remembrance.

“I couldn’t say anything because I thought you would - “and it was Jim’s turn to stop short.

“What?” Leonard asked.

“Turn me down,” Jim said, reluctantly. “You’re a southerner. I didn’t think you guys liked that sort of thing?”

“The gay thing? Some don’t. I’m obviously not one of them,” Leonard replied, with a heavy sigh of frustration, that Jim suspected was all for him.

“No,” Jim said. “You’re not. Neither am I.”

“You’re not even southern,” Leonard laughed. “Gotta get some good strong Georgia blood in you for that!”

Jim laughed at that, but didn’t offer a response. Instead, he lifted his hand away from Leonard’s finally.

“So what d’you say?“ Jim asked, breaking the silence when it became obvious that Leonard wouldn‘t.

“To what? You haven't’ even asked me anything, you idiot,” Leonard growled, turning to face him again.

“Us. Wanna give it a shot? It’s not like you haven’t given me enough hints, after all,” Jim said, pointing to the mound of dough nearby. “Keep cooking like that, and I’ll marry you.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Leonard said, pointing one doughy finger at him. “And don't try and deny that.”

“So it’s a yes, then?” Jim asked, hopefully.

“You’re persistent, you know that?” Leonard asked.

“So, it would seem, are you,” Jim replied, again gesturing towards the mound of dough.

“Fine, yeah,” Leonard replied.

“Well, I would have hoped for a bit more finesse, there, Bones,” Jim said, with a cheeky grin at the doctor.

“That’s all you're getting. I’ve got a grumpy doctor exterior to uphold, after all,” Leonard replied, even though a small smile was touching the corners of his mouth and warming his eyes.

“I like grumpy doctors,” Jim said. “Makes me all gooey inside.”

“Shut up,” Leonard growled from the side of his mouth.

Jim laughed at that, before he bumped Leonard’s shoulder with his own.

“Make some room, Bones,” he said. “Show me how this thing is done.”

Leonard looked as though he was about to protest, but eventually he moved over and started to show Jim the correct way to knead the dough, how to apply just the right amount of sugar and cinnamon to the exterior and then to place them on the baking tray. Jim didn’t think that baking could be so much fun, yet by the end of a couple hours, they’d made a fruit cake together, along with a variety of other baked goodies. Jim dared to snuggle another kiss from Leonard, which was returned with an amused growl from the doctor,

It didn’t take long, amidst the growing numbers of kisses and cakes, for Jim to understand why Leonard loved baking so much. He found the exercise relaxing, soothing even and he’d never seen Leonard quite so relaxed before. Still, however fun baking might be, it still didn’t match the kisses he stole from Leonard afterwards, and the smile he felt on the doctor’s mouth as he reciprocated. It was then that Jim realized he was more than a little in love with Leonard McCoy.

~*~*~*~

The following day was Christmas Day and Leonard expected it to be awkward. He made his way onto the bridge, expecting Jim to perhaps ignore him, already regretful of kisses stolen amongst the dough. Jim looked up at him, blue eyes seeming all the brighter this morning, yet the big, friendly smile that lit up Jim’s face waylaid any fears Leonard had. He made his way over to Jim, and even though they didn’t kiss for fear of embarrassing themselves in front of the crew and a mutual need to take it slow, Jim still took the doctor’s hand and pressed it slightly, giving the doctor a wink to show he didn’t regret anything. Leonard tipped his head towards Jim in a gesture of acceptance, before moving on.

Jim said loudly into the Bridge - “Guess our Mystery Baker hit again last night. I got the biggest batch of cinnamon rolls delivered to my room, you know. Had love hearts on one of them.”

Leonard’s eyes narrowed as he glared at Jim, who merely shrugged in return.

“Oooh, guess someone really does love you,” Unura said, with a raised eyebrowed look at Jim.

“Well, what can I say? I’m irresistible. Whoever this baker is, they can have my hand in marriage,” Jim said, with a grin in Leonard’s direction.

“I assume the whole crew will bear credible witness and hold you to that statement, Jim,” Spock said, absently from his post.

“I know. That’s why I said it. Make something official, at least,” Jim said, musingly.

“Oh yeah? Something you’re not telling us, sir?” Sulu asked, turning round to face the captain, with an interested look upon his face.

“Maybe, maybe not. Who knows? Only time will tell,” Jim replied, with a grin.

“Sounds very mysterious there,” Uhura added.

“Oh, dammit, this is freaking ridiculous,” Leonard growled, more to himself than the Bridge at large.

“Something you wanna say there, Bones?” Jim asked, grinning wider now.

“Jesus Christ on a cracker, Jim, just tell them already,” Leonard said, whirling upon Jim heatedly.

“I thought we weren’t going to, yet?” Jim asked, frowning at Leonard.

“Would either one of you please care to enlighten the rest of the class?” Spock asked, looking as though he wasn't affected either way.

Knowing the Vulcan as well as he possibly could, Jim suspected that suspense, intrigue and potential gossip did not enter Spock’s sphere of reality as it did for humanity. He did not choose to speak straight away, however.

“Fine,” Leonard growled, in lieu of the captain. “I’m the mystery baker, alright? I made you all those cookies and cakes. Happy now?”

“And?” Uhura asked, raising one eyebrow and looking scarily like Spock in that one instant. “There’s something else you’re not telling us there. I can hear it in your voice.”

“Never underestimate the skills of a communications officer, Bones,” Jim said, with a grin. “The floor’s yours, cupcake.”

“Shut up, all of you,” Leonard yelled. “Fine, if you wanna know everything; I’m seeing Jim.”

“Yes, we are all seeing Jim, Doctor. He is sitting right there, after all,” Chekov said, in confusion.

“Not in that way, idiot,” Leonard growled. “Seeing as in dating, if you must know.”

“You’re dating? Since when?” Uhura asked, in the tone of voice that indicated she wasn‘t exactly surprised. “It’s about time, anyway.”

“Since last night,” Jim said, proudly. “Leonard made his intentions clear and I reciprocated.”

“Reciprocated?” Spock questioned, turning a sharp - for him, at least - glare onto Jim..

“What? I can know long words,” Jim said, defensively.

Spock’s only response was to raise one eyebrow at him. Leonard sighed in frustration and muttered something about green blooded, pointy eared bastards. Spock pointedly didn’t take any notice.

“Like I said, it’s about time. Plus it makes sense as to why you were getting all the best cakes,” Uhura said, with a smile. “Not that anyone was jealous, mind you.”

“Who was jealous?” Jim asked, in surprise. “I didn’t know anyone was jealous.”

Almost every hand rose in the Bridge, with the exception of Jim and Leonard, and typically Spock, who thought such base emotions as jealousy completely beneath him. Jim exchanged a glance with Leonard, before both broke out into huge grins.

“Cool, everyone was jealous, Bones,” was Jim’s only response, yet Leonard said nothing at all.

~*~*~*~

Later that night, and Jim returned alone to his quarters, after a long and exhausting Christmas party. It seemed that most everyone had heard about Jim and Leonard’s fledgling romance, congratulating them on finally getting it together. Jim had taken it all in good grace, although the captain could see that it had been steadily grating on Leonard’s nerves. He wasn’t surprised, however, when Leonard had excused himself early from proceedings Jim waited behind for another fifteen minutes, before, he, too left. He found Leonard already there in Jim‘s quarters, with a plate of sweet cornbread and a huge peach cobbler beside him. Jim’s eyes closed at the delicious smells surrounding him and he slumped down beside the doctor wearily.

“Who knew Christmas parties could be so exhausting?” he moaned, over-dramatically.

“Why I left early, kid,” Leonard replied, with a slight smile. “Besides, I had to re-heat something extra special for you, didn’t I? The finest food from Georgia.”

“Can’t I just have the finest doctor instead?” Jim pouted, playfully.

“You already have me. You don’t have peach cobbler,” Leonard pointed out.

Jim snorted at that, but didn’t say anything. He waited until Leonard had cut him a portion before sampling it. The cobbler was as delicious as Jim expected, as was the cornbread he sampled afterwards. Despite the deliciousness of the food however, it still didn’t beat having Leonard there for Christmas, celebrating with kisses stolen amidst the heady taste of bourbon and peach cobbler.

~~ the end ~~

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Notes 2: The space_wrapped prompt chosen was - 33) Bones has a tendency to start baking when it gets to be the holiday season. Traditional treats, fabulously decorated cakes (come on, those surgeon's fingers could craft some beautiful decorations). He bribes the cook to let him into the Enterprise's kitchen and while he shares his treats with the crew, Jim keeps getting special treats.


End file.
